


Inviolable

by SelkieWife



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Droughtjoy 2017, Explicit Language, F/M, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Mutilations, Past Abuse, Past Torture, Self Deprecating Humor, abuse recovery, abuse survivors, droughtjoy2017, game of thrones season 7, past assault, past castration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 08:22:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11870379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelkieWife/pseuds/SelkieWife
Summary: Part of Droughtjoy 2017. Got Season 7 Future Fic.Prompt 5: Theon rescues Yara and helps her recover after her tongue has been cut out by Euron. He helps her to believe she can still rule. (Submitted by Anonymous)





	Inviolable

_**“Yᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢᴀʟᴇ  
Fɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇsᴇʀᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɪɴᴠɪᴏʟᴀʙʟᴇ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ” ~T. S. Eʟɪᴏᴛ** _

In her silence he moved swiftly, cutting her bloodied clothes away with his dirk, carefully cleaning the worst of her wounds, and covering her with blankets as she shook and writhed with fever. There was an uncomfortable circularity to the whole ordeal as _he_ became the one to force her to eat, to rub salves in her wounds, help her to swallow broth and ale, and to force bitter herbs into her ruined mouth, just as she had done when he first returned to her. True, he was much less _**aggressive**_ than she had been. But he was just as relentless in his care. 

People told him that it was useless. That he should take the salt throne and send Yara to live in Harlaw. He was Balon’s only living son after all. He must have fathered many bastards in his life and one could surely be found and legitimized to continue the line. It seemed that by killing Euron he had finally achieved the respect he had craved his whole life. Yet respect was a useless thing to him these days. And those who said these things were either met with sharp words or the threat of a sharp axe to their throat.

In her silence she was still a terrible patient. She hated him having to do things for her and frustration radiated off of her like a desperate fire consuming everyone in it’s path. She had never felt what it was to be imprisoned in her own body, to be unable to speak out or speak up, to be unable to offer a sly or lewd remark, or break the tension with a clever jape. Her voice had been as much a weapon as her axe or her dirk. And she had raised it boldly in an unconventional battle with the world since the moment she learned to speak. 

In her bleakest moments she thought to take her own advice and end it. **_If you’re so broken that there’s no coming back, take a knife and cut your wrists_.** And in these bleak and horrifyingly _silent_ moments, she felt broken enough to do it. What always held her back was Theon. Whatever he may have done in his life, he hadn’t done that. However broken he had seemed, he had bravely faced his brokenness with a courage she didn’t know if she could manage. He had never given up. She was in awe of that. Where did he find that kind of stoic strength? 

Her wayward little brother cared for her with a kindness and gentleness that was so different from the way she had roughly taken him in hand, ridiculing and berating him. She wished she could take it all back now. But her mouth could no longer form an apology, if it were ever capable of forming one before the mutilation. And because she could not apologize, he didn’t either in solidarity, though he felt the guilt keenly. The remorse at being unable to protect her from this pain coiled inside him like a snake devouring itself. Yet he forced himself to smile encouragingly, to remove his gloves without shame to massage salves and healing oils into her wounds, and to confidently stand up to any dissension about whether a mute woman could rule the Iron Islands. He truly believed that she could, even though she was losing faith in herself. 

But things began to take a turn when he began making japes for her sake. Separated as children and raised apart for most of their lives, Theon still felt as though he could read his sister’s mind. He began speaking the things he knew she wished she could say and after awhile he began offering his own japes. His humor had gotten even more sardonic since his trauma. He remembered the day he finally made her laugh again- when he informed her that now that he was without a cock, he would be much harder for her to fool. It had been so inappropriate and unexpected that she had thrown her head back in laughter, heedless of the fact that her lack of tongue was on full display.

They both took a perverse joy in the fact that the **_tongueless cunt_ ** and the **_cockless coward_** had been the ones to defeat Euron, the ones to triumph over everyone who would stand in their way. Theon’s voice grew stronger as he became Yara’s mouth as well as her Hand. Though Uncle Rodrik worked to help her master an signing system with her hands, Theon and Yara both became exceptionally good at reading each other’s eyes. Yara was relearning to speak after a fashion, but only attempted it in front of those she trusted. Theon was the one to address her people with speeches she had penned. He learned that he was once again able to stand in front of a large group of people and deliver a rousing speech without fear, such as when Queen Yara put her full support and fleets behind the King in the North to fight the White Walkers. Yara, in turn, learned that silence could be also be a powerful weapon. And that one look from her could inspire more fear and confidence than a thousand clever words.   


They would swim together often, the salt water soothing their wounded souls as much as their wounded bodies. Yara would body surf the waves with a reckless abandon, the way she had as a child. The waves were rough and unyielding, **_the way she liked it_** and she moved with them in a silent exhilarating dance, an interaction that had never needed words. Theon would sink beneath the waves and let them carry him. Cradled by the ocean, he was not tied to any country. He could exist in a space between lands and loyalties, between Starks and Greyjoys, where he could just be Theon, without lofty titles or disgrace. Where he could just ** _BE_**.

They were there for each other when the nightmares came for them in the pitch of a hellish night. But they also dreamed. They dreamed as they floated in the darkness of the waves that tried to devour them. They dreamed their arms had sprouted wings **_and they rose again and again and again._**  They took to the sky carving out their flight in blood and song. And when they opened their mouths, the voices that rang out were a deafening outcry- strong and inviolable. And the words were the same as Yara had spoken to Euron during the Kingsmoot and to all those in her life that had ever tried to silence her:

  ** _I AM NOT FINISHED._**


End file.
